


Together We'll Weather the Storm

by aroseintheimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroseintheimpala/pseuds/aroseintheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets lost in the grief of missing his mom, and Cas offers him comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together We'll Weather the Storm

Dean tossed his jacket carelessly onto the chair in the corner of his room. It had been a long several days, and he felt it in every single muscle as he crawled into bed with all the lights still on and settled into the memory foam mattress. He, Sam, and Cas had finished cleaning out a vamp nest in Texas the night before. Everything had gone wrong, of course, because when did it not? Still, they’d managed to make it back in one piece.

He turned over on his side, facing the nightstand. There were a couple of empty beer bottles sitting there that he needed to throw away. He made a mental note to do it later when he felt like moving and looked instead to the picture leaning against the lamp. It was slightly faded and a little rough around the edges from the years he’d kept it in his wallet, but his mother’s beautiful smile still beamed back at him. 

He felt a sudden pull in his chest. He picked up the picture and cradled it in one hand as he settled onto his back and held it inches above his face. He thought about his mom every single day, of course, but he hadn’t really _missed_ her in a long time. At that moment, though, he did. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the feeling of her arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace. Her lips pressed against his forehead when she kissed him good night or when she left him at daycare in the mornings. He reached deep into his mind for the memory of her singing “Hey Jude” quietly while he was curled up in her lap in the old rocking chair in the living room.

It hit him like a ton of bricks then. Before he knew it, he was sitting up with his knees pulled to his chest and face buried behind them. He gasped for breath as an unanticipated sob escaped his body. He couldn’t control it after that. The tears began to fall freely. All of that grief felt like a tidal wave. He knew he could swim, but every single part of his mind capable of escaping refused to respond. It was overwhelming. 

Some part of him insisted that he shouldn’t be alone like this, and he knew he didn’t want to be. What was he to do, though? Go knock on Sam or Cas’s door, wake them up, and tell them he was being a baby and needed to talk about his feelings? That wasn’t really his style. Yet, it was exactly what he wanted so desperately.

He ended up electing to suffer alone. It was bad enough that he was in this state. He didn’t want anyone else to feel sorry for him. Of course, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t partake in a little self-medication. He swung his legs over the bed and sighed as he stood. He looked in the mirror and took in his bloodshot, tired eyes and wiped away two stray tears that had managed to run down his cheeks. He looked like hell, but it would have to be good enough. He wasn’t planning on running into anyone anyway.

He opened the door and slipped into the hallway. His footsteps were soft as he padded through the bunker in his socks. When he finally reached the kitchen, he saw that the light was on. He almost turned around and went back to his room, but he took a deep breath. This was a good thing, he told himself. If someone was in there, he would deal with it. Might be a nice distraction anyway. So he went forward and turned the corner to see Cas sitting at the table with a blue coffee mug clasped between his hands. 

Not wanting to startle his friend, he said, “Hey, Cas.”

Cas turned his head and nodded in Dean’s direction. He started to turn back to what Dean could now see was some kind of tea, but he stopped. Instead, he turned around fully and looked directly at Dean’s face. Dean fidgeted under Cas’s scrutiny. He almost dared to hope that Cas wouldn’t notice the redness in his eyes or the dark circles he knew were there. He knew better though. It was Cas, after all. It almost scared Dean how well Cas seemed to know him.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Cas finally asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Nothing,” Dean shrugged.

He walked past Cas and opened the refrigerator door to retrieve a beer. There was one left sitting on the top shelf, and he grabbed it. By the time he turned around, though, Cas was standing next to him. He held out his hand expectantly. Dean grimaced before surrendering the bottle to him. He wasn’t up for a fight in his current state. He figured he could just make something up to appease Cas and take his beer back to his room in a matter of minutes.

Cas took the bottle from him and placed it on the counter behind him.

“You’ve been crying,” he said bluntly.

“No, I haven’t,” Dean replied. “I’m just tired.”

Cas regarded him with such sincerity that Dean almost gave in and grabbed him for a hug. He didn’t, though. He folded his arms across his chest and sighed.

“Seriously, Cas. I’m fine. Now if you’re done playing Dr. Phil, I’m going to take my beer back to my room.”

He reached behind Cas to get the bottle, but Cas was quicker and grabbed Dean’s wrist.

“You’re not fine, Dean,” he said with a touch of that I’m-an-angel-of-the-Lord authoritative tone. Dean hadn’t heard it directed at him in a long while, and it gave him pause as Cas continued, “and I don’t think that that’s a good idea.”

Dean was hyper aware of the hold Cas still had on his wrist. He felt a rush of warmth spread through him as he gulped and swayed forward a bit. The feeling was enough to convince him that this was, in fact, better than the crying session he had planned. So he sighed and relaxed, “Fine. You’re right.”

Cas’s expression softened. His thumb began to trace soft circles on the inside of Dean’s wrist for just a few seconds before he dropped it.  
“Want to put up the beer then?” he asked. “I can make you a cup of tea, and we can talk--or not talk, if that’s what you want.”

Dean nodded. He had been convinced to try Cas’s chamomile tea before and had to admit that he kind of liked the sweet flavor. Cas made it with honey and two spoons full of sugar. He had apparently done actual research on the topic and settled on that being the best method. It was good, though, so Dean wasn’t complaining.

He put the bottle back in the fridge and took a seat across from where Cas had been sitting at the table. A comfortable silence fell between them as Cas prepared the tea. Dean felt slightly better already just by being in someone else’s presence. It pulled him out of his mind a bit. When Cas sat down across from him, he scooted the steaming mug in front of him and Dean smiled gratefully. He wrapped his hands around it and focused on absorbing the heat. He hadn’t realized he was cold until the contrast of the hot tea made him shiver.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cas asked, breaking the silence.

Dean contemplated his question for a moment. His reflex was to say no. He found, however, that he did actually want to talk about it. It was Cas. If anybody was going to listen without judging him, it would be him.

“Yeah,” Dean said, voice rough both from crying and lack of sleep. 

“Okay,” Cas answered simply, letting Dean take the lead.

“It’s my mom,” Dean explained. He took a drink of the tea and exhaled as the hot liquid hit his throat. He could feel its warmth travel all the way to his stomach as he swallowed. “I was just looking at her picture earlier, and I don’t know what hit me. I just miss her.”

Cas smiled at him sadly. “I know you think about her a lot.”

Dean nodded at the table.

“Tell me a story,” Cas said.

Dean looked up in confusion. “A story?”

“About your mom,” Cas clarified. “Tell me something funny or something sad or whatever you want to talk about.”

“Okay,” Dean said a little hesitantly.

He started telling Cas about how his mom made the best damn apple pie he’d ever tasted and ended up telling him a whole lot more. Cas laughed so hard that tears ran down his face as Dean recounted the time he’d tried to help her cook and spilled flour all over himself and the kitchen floor and nodded sympathetically as Dean told him about how he’d comforted his mom when John left. They sat there in the kitchen and talked for nearly two hours until they were both on their second cup of tea. Dean could feel the tiredness encroaching on his mind again as his shoulders started to slump forward where he leaned against the table. He sat back and sighed.

“Thanks, Cas.”

Cas looked genuinely puzzled. “For what?”

“For sitting up until freakin’,” he looked at the clock, “four AM listening to me ramble.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Dean. I couldn’t sleep anyways, and you needed me.”

Dean smiled at him. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“However, I am feeling much more tired now,” Cas said as he stood and took both of their cups to the sink.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean replied. 

He stood up and started to follow Cas out of the kitchen and toward their bedrooms. Despite how much better he felt, his mind started to panic again at the thought of returning to his empty room. He was irrationally terrified of those feelings coming back. As they reached his door, he stopped and stared at it solemnly. Cas must have noticed because he stopped too and waited a moment before placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“You can sleep in my room, if you want,” he said, immediately sensing the problem even though Dean hadn’t said it. “I can sleep in the chair so I’ll be there if you need anything.” 

Dean nodded. “Okay.”

They walked down the hallway to Cas’s door, and he followed Cas inside. The door was shut behind him, and he instantly felt safer somehow. Cas grabbed a pillow and started to walk over to the chair when Dean caught his wrist. 

“Don’t sleep in the chair,” he said. He could feel the desperateness in his voice and hoped that Cas wouldn’t think less of him for this request. “I mean, you can if you want, but I’d rather you sleep in the bed with me.”

Cas just smiled and nodded. He placed the pillow back in its spot and crawled under the covers on one side as Dean made his way around the bed to do the same. They twisted and moved until they were settled with their backs facing each other. Dean stared at the wall for several minutes before turning over to face Cas. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he didn’t think Cas was asleep either. He turned out to be right when Cas rolled over to face him. 

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” Cas asked.

“Nope,” Dean replied.

They stared at each other for a long moment that would probably have been really uncomfortable if it were any other two grown men who were just friends lying next to each other in bed. Somehow, it wasn’t with Cas. Dean took a chance and reached for Cas’s hand that was sitting between them. Relief washed over him as Cas met him halfway and laced their fingers together. 

“God, this is going to sound so fucking stupid,” Dean started.

“I doubt that,” Cas said, squeezing Dean’s hand. 

Dean stared at their hands and then looked back to Cas’s eyes. 

“Can you, just, hold me?” he asked. 

He immediately felt ridiculous and ashamed for asking, but Cas wasn’t fazed. He responded by scooting closer until his body was pressed flush against Dean’s. He wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist and allowed Dean to nuzzle his head under his chin so that it was resting in the space between his shoulder and neck. They wiggled a bit until their legs were tangled together comfortably. It wasn’t awkward at all. It felt exactly right, and Dean hadn’t had nearly enough sleep to process what that meant.

“Is that better?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded, knowing Cas would feel it since his chin was resting lightly on the top of Dean’s head.

“Thank you,” he breathed. 

He’d never felt more vulnerable than he did in that moment. He’d laid his feelings bare for Cas, but he was surprised to find that he actually felt better for having done it. He didn’t feel weak for being curled up in Cas’s bed with his best friend’s arms around him. He felt stronger somehow.

“You’re welcome,” Cas answered. “Now let’s try and get some sleep before the sun comes up.”

Dean answered by snuggling closer to him and sighing deeply. He fell asleep within minutes enveloped in Cas’s warmth. The two of them slept all morning and didn’t stumble out of Cas’s room until nearly two the next afternoon. Sam looked up with a smug grin on his face as he took in their matching bed heads and rumpled clothes when they stumbled past the library on the way to the kitchen. Dean silently flipped him off as he walked by, but Sam laughed before returning to whatever he had been reading. None of them talked about it, but Dean and Cas sharing a bed became a permanent thing. After three weeks, Cas moved his stuff into Dean’s room. There were still nightmares and bad nights for the both of them, of course. From that first night forward, though, they faced them together.


End file.
